


Moonlight Glory

by Alzerak



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Accidental Cuddling, Accidental Stimulation, Accidental Voyeurism, Angst, Clothed Sex, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Frottage, Half-Sibling Incest, Masturbation, Sharing a Bed, Sleep Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2020-11-22 15:26:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20876453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alzerak/pseuds/Alzerak
Summary: In which Jon Snow, King in the North, takes a walk in the woods.





	1. Chapter 1

The festivities had finally died down, and Jon Snow, newly appointed King in the North, was at last able to retire and begin to process the massive upheaval in his life. His first thought was for Sansa; she had departed the Great Hall some time before he had, and although he missed her presence, he believed he managed to be as graceful as required. Whilst Sansa seemed to be pleased and approving at the beginning of the evening, he noticed her countenance changed, her expression tight under the smiles she gave out. _Was she disappointed that the Lords passed her by? By rights, it should have been hers._ Even whilst he was thinking that, he could not forget the calculating looks Lord Baelish would throw his way. Jon misliked the man, not least for his close attentions around his sister, and perhaps it was a good thing that Sansa would not have to deal with the responsibilities of Queenship on top of negotiating with Littlefinger.

Changing into his sleepwear, Jon stepped out of his room into the solar he shared with Sansa. The door to her room was closed, and Jon wondered if she had retired. Deciding to check if she was awake, Jon gently knocked on the door, to which he received no answer. Jon had not seen the Lady Brienne guarding the other door to Sansa’s room, so perhaps she had not yet retired. 

His mind made up, Jon threw on the cloak Sansa had lovingly crafted with her own hands, and sought her out. He quickly came upon Brienne of Tarth, who informed him that Sansa had insisted upon releasing her from her duties for the rest of the evening. Jon considered that perhaps Sansa had gone to speak privately with Lord Baelish, a thought that sent a surge of righteous fury through him. His fingers twitched as he strode purposefully through the halls to the wing where Lord Baelish was staying, only to have his murderous train of thought derailed when Ghost appeared almost out of nowhere. Jon glanced from where he’d come, and saw Littlefinger and some of the Knights of the Vale conversing. Sansa was not among them, so Jon resolved that he should check whether she was indeed deep in her slumber.

But Ghost did not seem to wish to allow Jon the time to do that, as Jon turned back, Ghost trotted after him to get his attention, then trotted away. 

“Sorry boy,” Jon leaned down to give his Wolf a scratch on the head. “I need to find Sansa.”

As though he understood, Ghost padded away, leading Jon outside the castle and into the Godswood. In the soft silvery glow of the moonlight, Jon found himself wandering the woods, almost absent-mindedly following Ghost until he realised that Ghost was no longer with him. It was then that Jon began to hear faint noises from ahead. As the though he was almost drawn to them, Jon quietly stepped through the light snows and peaked around to where he thought he had heard the noises.

Jon bit down hard on his thumb to quieten the groan that had left him involuntarily at the spectacular sight before him. Sansa, his own sister, was squatting, her back pressed against a large tree, as naked as her name day, her bottom lip rolled back between her teeth as her fingers dipped in to her most private place. The blood in Jon’s body suddenly flowed away from his brain, stupefying him in place before Sansa began to moan. Stunned into action, Jon wrenched himself around so that his back was pressed against the tree that blocked him from view. Terrified that she would be able to hear even his ferocious breathing above her sweet moans that sent jolts of arousal through his already painfully taut body, Jon willed himself to be as still and silent as possible whilst the image of Sansa’s gorgeous, naked form flooded his mind that until now, had only been able to utilise his own depraved imagination. 

He knew he should depart immediately, yet terror and shame stilled him. What seemed an easy path through the woods now seemed a deathtrap with many leaves and twigs ready to crumble under his heavy boots, every crinkle an alarm to alert his sister to his disgusting bastard lusts, for how else could explain how his aching cock was straining against his breeches, how, even with his eyes open, the sight of the stiff peaks of his sister’s teats were emblazoned into his mind. Jon closed his eyes, trying to think of anything to rid himself of his despicable thoughts, yet they only intensified as he heard her sweet moans increasing further. Jon’s treacherous mind began to imagine that he was the cause of such, that it was his fingers and tongue exploring the sweetness of her cunt, that his lips closed around her nipples and sucked on her breasts, that he was eliciting such sweet sounds from her mouth as his cock thrust into her cunny.

“JOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON!” 

Nearly sobbing, Jon’s eyes were wrenched open as Sansa’s cry rent the air. _Did she know he was there, spying on her like a disgusting pervert? He would have had anyone who did such a thing executed, so she was well within her rights to demand his head. _Frozen with fear, Jon waited as he heard Sansa begin to move, too afraid to confess his presence even though she had to know he was there.

But even then, his mind moved fast enough that his own lustful imaginings of her calling out his name in pleasure flooded his body, though precious, sweet and good Sansa would never think of him in that manner. She probably had to find her privacy because deep in her heart she knew of his despicable nature, his nature that craved and yearned for her beyond how any brother should.

Jon waited for the moments for his discovery to count down as she stepped closer, but it didn’t happen. He heard the faint impact of something against the other side of the tree, and took a moment to register of something moving, the sound slick with wetness.

His mind jolted by the thought of Sansa touching her sweet, wet cunny so close to him that he could smell her heavenly scent, Jon took a moment to realise that her moans had turned into mutterings; “Fuck, fuck fuck fuck, fuck, fuck, please Jon, fuck me, please, fuck...” Her mutterings began to turn unintelligible as her words turned into cries of desperation. Jon heard a hiss expelled from her lips as the sounds of her movement grew more vigorous. Jon forced himself to remain still against the temptation of swinging around and sinking his raging hard cock into her slick and tight cunt as she was begging him to. He needed to be responsible, and at any rate, in all likelihood, she was thinking of another Jon, having to hide the sound of his name lest her own brother think she was speaking of him.

Sansa’s cries petered out, replaced by heavy, jolting gasps of breath as though she were trying to thrust herself against the tree. Jon pressed his own back as hard as he could against the trunk, begging the old gods and the new for the resolve he needed to stop himself from taking his sister against the tree, the hardness of his cock and the sheer sinful nature of his thoughts bringing to the brink of weeping as he desperately tried to maintain himself.

“FUCK ME, PLEASE, FUCK ME, MY KING.” Sansa’s ejaculation rent through the stillness of the air. Jon’s gloved fingers clawed at the bark of the tree behind him as he heard her take a deep, swallowing breath, as though she could barely muster any more strength. For a moment, he could not hear her, and he was terrified something had happened, but her voice returned with a faint whimper, melodiously begging once again. “Please, inside me, fill me with your seed.”

Helpless at the sounds of her begging and her sweet gasps of pleasure, with the heady scent of her nectar wafting up his nostrils, Jon felt his cock obey her cries, his underclothes ruined as his legs gave out and he sunk against the tree. Jon slumped, unable to move, as he heard Sansa move away and dress herself. After a few moments of terror, fearing he was about to be discovered, Jon heard Sansa move away, mercifully a few trees away. Finally, after a couple of minutes, Jon was able to wrench himself off of the ground and back to his bedchamber.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do apologise for the short chapters. I feel I'd prefer to provide 1k words rather than try and push for 5k and end up publishing nothing.

Jon felt his heart pumping wildly as he peeled the sticky layer that was his undergarments away from his skin. In a daze, he half believed that the events he witnessed moments before were the imaginings of his lustful mind, yet Sansa’s moans still echoed in his ears. As he cleaned himself as best he could with the cloth and basin of water left for the night, Jon felt himself respond to his own hands whilst the memory of the sound of his sister’s pleasure thunderously echoed in his brain. It would be so easy to conjure her vision up again, as Jon shamefully knew he had done in the past. Yet in the past such thoughts in the dead of night were relegated strictly to the realm of fantasy. Now, any acts of disgusting perversion thinking of Sansa would be far too close to reality, and Jon forced himself not to take himself in hand, knowing that he would never think of anything else than Sansa’s sweet vocalisations and the image of her naked form emblazoned into his mind as long as he lived.

Jon changed into a shirt and clean pair of undergarments, and fortunately, exhaustion overpowered his half aroused state, and he fell into a dreamless slumber, until a faint sound roused him.

Jon swung himself of bed with alacrity, pulling open the door to the solar. Sansa stood in her nightgown, slightly moving on the balls of her feet with nervous energy. Jon instantly noticed the redness around her eyes, and immediately stepped aside to allow Sansa into his chambers.

“Thank you, Jon,” Sansa began with a watery laugh. “I wasn’t sure if things had changed between us…”

“Never, Sansa!” In their travels, Sansa had sometimes come to him when her nightmares became too harrowing for her to handle, and Jon, though he would have held her as often and as close as she wished, was grateful for her presence, for her presence would sooth and ward off his own nightmares. As the weeks and months stretched on, Sansa spent fewer nights with him, and Jon was selfishly grateful, for his wicked bastard lusts began to grow in the time his sister spent in his arms.

Now, however, Jon could suppress his despicable desires at the sight of Sansa’s distress. 

Sansa sagged down onto his bed, and Jon fell beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. 

“I had another nightmare,” Sansa provided. “I know, it’s stupid. I should feel safe now, with him dead and I have you and Brienne and Ghost, but…”

Sansa twisted her hands together, as though she didn’t want to admit exactly what she had dreamed of. 

Jon reached out for a stay tendril of her hair and cupped her cheek. “You can say as much or as little as you like, Sansa.” Sansa nuzzled closer to his hand. 

“Please, just hold me, Jon. I need to know you’re here.”

Jon nodded without hesitation, allowing Sansa to choose the position where she would be most comfortable. Fortunately for Jon’s volatile libido, Sansa seemed happy to sleep on her back, allowing Jon’s hand to gently touch her own, his other draped over her stomach.

Mercifully, sleep took them both quickly. Jon began to feel warm, and strangely wet. Opening his eyes, he saw that he was no longer in bed, but the warm water of the hot springs lapped around his waist. Jon closed his eyes to allow the sensation of the water to soothe him, though he felt odd with the wetness of his clothing clinging to his body beneath the waves. As he tried to reconcile the unusual feeling, he felt a pressure against his cock, half-hard in the water. Jon breathed in heavily and the sensation, of something swiping against it, up and down his hard shaft. He pulled his eyes open again as the sensation to see his sister playfully dive under the water, bobbing back out with a beaming smile.

“You’re far too grumpy!” Jon struggled to move his gaze away from Sansa’s breasts, her pink nipples stretching against the wetness of her garments that hugged her curves. Sansa, mercifully, did not seem to notice his blatant gawking, nor the hardness of his cock. “Come on, play a game with me!” Sansa encouraged. “It’s very simple - all you need to do is hold me.”

It was easy to hold Sansa, with the water making her weight easy to support, but the benefits it provided soon turned against Jon as Sansa began to rock against him, giggling mischievously as she did. Jon huffed in feign exasperation, and stepped deeper into the pool, so that Sansa’s hips, gyrating against his own, did not unbalance them both. Jon did not want to question what game they were supposed to be playing, not as he sought the delicious friction she was providing from the warmth of her centre. Entranced, Jon looked down through the crystal clear water to where she rubbed against him, and up past her breasts, to her face, smirking flirtatiously. Jon closed his eyes and humped against her, eliciting a breathy sigh which caused Sansa to lurch forward, her nose nuzzling into the crook of Jon’s neck, her breaths quickening into huffs of exhalations, Jon thrusting into her as they climbed and pushed each other to their peak. Jon tightened his grip around him, drawing her body closer to his as her breaths became soft sighs, driving his lusts further as his cock strained to breach the barriers between it and her warm cunny, and as Jon’s thrusting became slowly, heavier and more pronounced in his desperation to crest the mountaintop, Sansa moaned aloud.

Jon froze, his eyes ripped open. The faint glow of the moonlit night seeped past the curtains. He felt his cock, painfully hard as Sansa, who had somehow become cradled in his arms during the night, swiped herself against him, her legs wrapped around his own, her moans muffled into his neck. Though it was sheer agony to do so, Jon kept himself still, though he yearned to respond, to bury his face in her neck, to kiss, lick, suck and taste the light dew of her that called to him with her heady aroma. _Please, _Jon begged, _let her remain asleep, _as Sansa searched for the ecstasy of her own peak. Jon’s hand clenched his bedsheet, trying to keep his own cock from spilling into the sensation of her body pressed against it. Jon squeezed his eyes shut, stilling himself as Sansa’s movements reached a crescendo, her release vocalised with the sweetest of exaltations from her throat.

Jon waited for the soft, rhythmic breathing of her slumber to return, praying she would not notice the hardness of his cock nor how he was squeezing her tightly to him, but Sansa stiffened, entirely too unnaturally. She, too, was awake. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 


	3. Chapter 3

Jon was acutely aware that he was too stiff, that his arms were wrapped around Sansa, holding her close to his chest, that his bulge was firmly ensconced between the apex at her thighs. He knew he must relax himself, and do so seemingly naturally, lest she realise that he too was awake, and entirely too uncomfortable with how comfortable he was with having her in his arms. New sensations cropped up, the delicate tickle of her soft legs resting atop his, her arms resting about his neck, almost cradling him in her hands. 

“Jon.” Sansa’s first utterance of his name was scarcely even a whisper, a faint breath. Jon responded by loosening himself away from her, yet maintaining the pretence of slumber - too cowardly to face her. Yet he could not maintain the ruse, not when Sansa sniffed as she pulled away from him, sitting up as she continued. “I’m so sorry, Jon. I know you’d never want to speak to me again, or even see me.”

Jon opened his eyes and reached out for Sansa, only to have her flinch away. 

“Don’t, Jon. I am a wicked, wretched girl who is not worthy of your gentle touches.”

Jon acquiesced, pulling himself to sit up as she was. “Sansa, how can you say that? What are you even sorry for?”

Sansa turned to him, tears pooled in her eyes. “I know you felt it.”

Jon looked away, hoping Sansa couldn’t see his own wicked lusts shining in his own eyes. “You were sleeping Sansa. It’s nothing. Things like that happen.”

“If I,” Sansa hiccuped, “If I allowed you to sleep in my bed because you had a nightmare, and you started humping me in your sleep, would you not expect me to be furious with you? Wouldn’t you be angry with yourself?”

“I’d be the most wretched, evil, vile and despicable creature on Planetos.” Jon answered vehemently.

“Then you understand.”

“But I’m not angry with you!” Jon protested. “You didn’t know what you were doing.”

“Your forgiveness and gentleness is no excuse for my crimes, Jon.” 

Jon watched, feeling helpless, as Sansa stood up and left his chambers. 

Surely there was something he could do to make Sansa forgive herself. Perhaps this was his punishment for his own despicable wantings - Sansa’s guilt was his penance - yet Sansa should not have anything to feel guilty about. Mayhaps she did not wish to see him - perhaps she was lying to spare his feelings, disgusted or even afraid of his hardness pressed in to her when she placed him in a position of trust. Yet Jon felt selfish enough that he felt he must speak to her quickly, lest he lose her. And if indeed she was only feeling guilty for her own actions, Jon could not leave her without at least trying to offer what solace he could.

Sansa was staring into the fireplace. She was no longer crying, seemingly in miserable, quiet introspection. Jon stopped a respectful distance away.

“If you don’t want me to come near you, I won’t.” 

Sansa took a deep breath and sniffed. 

“Would you like me to fetch Brienne?” Jon offered. Sansa shook her head.

“No.” Sansa swallowed. “I couldn’t bear her disappointment.”

Jon blinked. He wondered if Brienne’s loyalty would extend to understanding. Perhaps it would, perhaps it would not. Jon doubted Brienne would approve, yet perhaps she would defend Sansa. 

Maybe she would blame him. He wouldn’t mind that, not if it spared Sansa.

Sansa turned to face Jon. 

“You know I don’t blame you, and for what it is worth, I don’t think you need to apologise, but if you need to hear it, I do forgive you.” Jon ventured, feeling dirty even as he did so, for enjoying the sensation of her body finding ecstasy against his. 

“You wouldn’t forgive me if you knew the truth.” Sansa confessed, hanging her head shamefully. “I know that the worst thing you might suspect me of doing would be something like conspiring with Littlefinger to have you murdered to place myself on the throne.”

“That is just the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever-”

“Yet even that is not nearly as bad as the truth.”

“Heard. How you can think that just boggles my mind.”

“I know how you hate me spending a moment with Littlefinger.”

“Because he’s Littlefinger! Not because I don’t trust you. I love you!”

Sansa stilled. Jon moved to sit beside her. “I didn’t have a nightmare about Ramsay. I had one about you.” Sansa swallowed. “About you dying.”

Jon yearned to reach out for Sansa, yet stilled himself, lest she not be wishing his touch.

“I’ve had nightmares about you being dead before. Arriving at Castle Black to find you lying on that table.” Now, Sansa stared into the fire, almost lifelessly. “This time though, I watched you die. I watched it happen as Littlefinger smiled, as though I was his co-conspirator. I watched the life drain from your eyes as you believed I had betrayed, as I knew I had failed to protect you.”

Jon tried to embrace Sansa, yet she gently pressed her hand against him, as though she were feeling unworthy of his touch. 

“Do you know what I was thinking, what I was dreaming, back in your bed, where I forced myself on to you?”

“You don’t need to tell me, Sansa. It doesn’t matter.”

Sansa swallowed. “I know it will hurt you, Jon, but you need to know the truth. I was thinking of you.”

“I understand.”

“No, you don’t!” Sansa protested. “I was having wicked, depraved lusts for my own sibling, my flesh and blood! What monster have I become that I can even think such profane desires!” 

“Sansa!” Jon cut her off, taking her hands in his and waiting until she looked him in the eye. “_I_ _understand.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the ANGST I just needed to push past it for the JONSA to continue.


	4. Chapter 4

Sansa’s beautiful blue eyes stared back at Jon, and for a moment, Jon thought he saw straight to her heart, how strong and brave yet vulnerable she was. How could he not love her?

But then he remembered that he promised to protect her, even from himself. She was good and pure, who had thoughts of him by happen-stance whereas he was a lustful bastard who conjured her up in his mind. 

Sansa must have noticed his thoughts, for she removed her hands and lowered her eyes. “You don’t have to lie for me, Jon.”

Jon was utterly confounded. _What was she talking about?_

“It was very brave of you to try to spare my feelings by implying that you have thoughts of me, yet I can see that even the idea of such disgusts you. I know I should be disgusted by my thoughts of you, yet I am not! I can only be disgusted that I am not disgusted.”

Jon looked down. “You shouldn’t be ashamed about your unconscious thoughts. I don’t know why you had a dream like that, but you can’t blame yourself for what you had no control over.”

Sansa sniffed. “If you had a nightmare, and asked to sleep in my bed, and you awoke from a dream where I was-” Sansa flushed prettily. “Fucking you and you realised you were grinding into my crotch in my sleep, how would you feel?”

“I’d be utterly disgusted with myself, and worthy of the most painful death!” 

Sansa sobbed. “I don’t hate you for saying what is right. I do deserve that.”

Jon’s self-loathing caught up with him, and he cradled Sansa’s face in his hands. “Not you, Sansa! Never you! You’re not the one who took you into his bed _knowing_ the thoughts I have for you, constantly whether in sleep or wakefulness. You’re not the one who dreams of you constantly. You’re not the one who lied to himself that he would be able to control himself. I’m so sorry you’re blaming yourself for something that is my fault - I should have, but I could not refuse you in your distress.”

“How can my filthy dreams be your fault?”

“I know you felt me, earlier.” 

Sansa’s mouth fell agape. “Yes.” Sansa confessed on a whisper. “But it’s not your fault! I know these things happen and you were asleep and I was grinding against you!”

“Or,” Jon suggested. “I was first, and your body gave you a dream as I rutted against you…”

Sansa suddenly stopped, clarity shining in her eyes as she paused. “You didn’t rut against me. You were perfectly still the whole time.”

“Because I didn’t want you to feel me.” Jon confessed. “I’d hoped you’d remain asleep because I knew you’d never be able to trust me after such a blatant betrayal. I knew I had to be punished yet I did not wish for you to know yet another person you should be able to trust had I betrayed you like that.”

It was Sansa that _finally_ broke the circle of self-loathing. “I will tell you a truth, and you tell me the same truth.”

At Sansa’s pleading look, one of being utterly tired, Jon mentally agreed, steeling himself for the truth he already knew, somewhere inside his mind, to be revealed.

“I haven’t just dreamed of you.” Sansa admitted. “I’ve thought of you - of us - on purpose.” Jon nodded, and Sansa continued. “It started early for me - Castle Black.”

Jon’s lips quirked. “Winterfell, for me.” 

Sansa chuckled. “Even now you’re better than I am.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

Sansa gently ribbed Jon with her elbow. “It’s true. When I was thinking of things entirely too wrong for one to think about one’s sibling, you hadn’t even started.”

“I can’t argue with you there, you’re absolutely right.”

Sansa smiled.

“I did get jealous though, although I don’t know if I knew what I was feeling.”

Sansa raised her eyebrows.

“Oh yes. I utterly loathed Joffrey.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Arya said you didn’t like Joffrey.” Sansa replied, looking as though she were trying to process the shock of Jon’s statement. “I said that you were jealous because Joffrey was a prince and you were-” Sansa bit her lip.

“A bastard?” Jon supplied. 

Sansa nodded. “It made sense!” Sansa protested. “I thought you wanted what Joffrey had.”

“I did - but I really wanted the only thing I could never have - you. I was quite dramatic when I asked Uncle Benjen to take me to the wall with him.”

Jon chuckled. “_If I can’t have Sansa I won’t have anyone_!”

Sansa giggled into her hand. 

“Of course I didn’t actually say that and I didn’t realise what it meant.”

“I feel better about telling you.” Sansa said after a pause. “But I know we can’t actually do anything even though I think we both want to, and self-loathing doesn’t solve our issue. So I propose that we trick our treacherous minds into _thinking_ we’ve succumbed to our base desires, and therefore, we won’t want to do something we’ve already done.”

Jon beamed. “Our attraction is clearly based on a desire to want what you can’t have. If we’re tricked into thinking we’ve already had it, our problems will be solved. Sansa, you’re a genius!”

“We’re both geniuses. And what is better, once we’ve tricked ourselves, surely our proper mental processes of regarding each other as siblings will return.”

“How do you think we should start?”

Sansa stood up, and began to walk back to Jon’s room. “Brienne won’t disturb me tomorrow morning, so we’ll be safe. We return to bed together.” Sansa paused, waiting for dramatic effect. “We take off most of our clothes. That way, in the morning, our subconscious will _think_ something happened the night before and we’ll be satisfied and we can go about our daily duties triumphant over ourselves!”

Jon nodded enthusiastically. “That is a totally foolproof plan.”

Jon followed Sansa into his room, where she had paused, contemplating in the moonlight. She was not at all beautiful and potential sight of her body had no effect whatsoever on Jon’s libido.

“Will it be better to see each other’s bodies now, so our minds are used to the sight, so we’re not titillated by something new in the morning?” Sansa asked.

“If we do, we can use our tremendous collective mental discipline to avoid seeing each other’s bodies in a sexual light, giving as another advantage come the morning!”

At Jon’s words, Sansa lit a couple of candles to bathe Jon’s room in a pale golden light.

“Undressing in front of each other might trick our minds into anticipating more, so we’ll turn around and then once we’re done we’ll have the quick shock, then get under the covers and victory will be ours!”

Jon agreed. After a moment, Sansa said she was ready, and he turned around to see Sansa’s body, which he vividly remembered from earlier in the night, tantalisingly and alluringly covered by her thin nightgown. Jon’s eyes did not flick to her breasts and he did not register her nipples harden under his gaze, and, unconcerned with any such matters, her pink tongue did not wet her lips. Their collective plan was going splendidly. 

Sansa did not look down at Jon’s crotch, and she did not see it grow at her attention. “This is working so well!”

Jon grimaced. “In the interests of being honest I must confess that my body is betraying me.” 

Sansa pursed her lips, tapping them with a finger. “That is a challenge but one we can overcome. I’ll admit that my own body is being a rotten traitor at the present time too. If we ignore it in the hopes of it dying down in our sleep, it will doubtlessly backfire on us. So I suggest we _deal with ourselves_ right now so that our investment pays dividends in the future.”

“We?” Jon swallowed. “In front of each other.”

Sansa beamed. “Here’s the trick. We’ll turn our backs to each other so we don’t see each other so the act is not visualised in our minds with the sight of each other. Disassociating each other with the act itself will be the first step to ultimate victory.”

“That will be so easy.” Jon agreed. “You’re the smartest person alive. No - you’re the smartest person in history. Right now I want to bend your over my bed -”

“And I want you to bend me over your bed-”

“But in five minutes I’ll be ‘Greetings Sister for whom I harbour no desires!’” 

“See you on the other side, Brother.”

**Author's Note:**

> Don't worry guys I have a plan, which is more than I can say for most WIPS I write. I do think chapters make sense for this story and I wanted to publish something without making myself write 6k words first.


End file.
